Cooperative Catalyst » School Storieshttps://coopcatalyst.wordpress.com
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Dear Chandra: “I Recognize You”https://coopcatalyst.wordpress.com/2014/09/02/dear-chandra-i-recognize-you/
https://coopcatalyst.wordpress.com/2014/09/02/dear-chandra-i-recognize-you/#commentsWed, 03 Sep 2014 00:18:41 +0000http://coopcatalyst.wordpress.com/?p=14094Continue reading →]]>I just posted this at voicEd.ca as part of a month-long initiative to encourage folks to write a letter to a beginning teacher. I could have written any number of letters, but this is the one that emerged on the night before the first day of school! It would be great to have others participate, either in this space or at voicEd.ca You can contact me at stephen.hurley@sympatico.ca if you’re interested in contributing.

Dear Chandra,

I’m writing this letter on Labour Day evening. Our dinner guests have left, the dishes are washed and put away and my two boys are tucked into bed dreaming about their first day of school. These are the “in-between” hours—that brief breath of time that stands between the hazy, lazy days of summer vacation and the stricter rhythm of the school year. This is one of those rare moments when we’re invited to stand still and look around. On the left are the relaxing moments by a pool or a splash pad, the opportunities to stay up a little later, stay in bed a little longer and stop to actually smell the coffee a little more often. On the right is the excitement of beginning a new adventure, learning new things and jumping into a profession that, until now, you’ve only dreamed about!

Chandra, when you were a little girl, you used to play school in your backyard. The other children in the neighbourhood were your students and, when they couldn’t be found, you conscripted your dolls and stuffed animals into service. Teaching is something that you have always wanted to do and now, after what seems to be a very long journey, you have been given the opportunity to begin.

I was in your position once. No, I’ve been in your position more than once because, no matter how many years you’ve been teaching, the first day of school is always a chance to begin again—with fresh resources, fresh perspectives and new-found energy!

Tomorrow morning, a class full of strangers will enter that space that you’ve been busy preparing for the past week and, although you may have the entire day planned out in your mind, it’s probably best that you leave a little room for them.

In fact, it’s probably best that you leave a whole lot of room for them.

They’ll walk into your classroom tomorrow morning, full of life, anticipation and hesitation. Some of the children will be hesitant, others will be rather rambunctious. Some will be very compliant, while others will require more assistance in re-assuming the role of student.

But, more than anything, all of them will be looking to you for recognition. All of them will want to, quite literally, make themselves known!

There may be a youngster in the group over by the door—the one that is sitting quietly, waiting for instructions. Well, he’s also waiting for you to ask him about his hobbies. He doesn’t really like school, but he’s an awesome first baseman and, just last week, he made a triple play all by himself!

That girl that just doesn’t seem to want to stop talking can’t wait for you to ask her about her favourite band. She’s good at math, but she’s really into Classic Rock and dreams of having an all girl band.

The boy that’s sitting back in his chair is wondering whether he can trust that you’re not going to write him off like others have. He’s never been that good at school, but he comes every day hoping that he might get the help he needs. He misses his Dad who has been working in Fort McMurray for the past several years.

The girl sitting closest to you wants you to know that she’s on your side—she’s ready to give you a chance! She wants to be a teacher when she grows up and she’s watching your every move!

Each of those names on the class list that you were given when you left school on Friday represents a whole bundle of stories and ideas about the world and, although it will be impossible to get to know each of them fully, you have the unique opportunity to create a space where those stories and ideas are welcome, are nurtured and respected.

I know that you have curriculum to cover, progress to monitor and evaluations to administer but I want to tell you the one thing that guided me through some of the most challenging times as a teacher: Students will remember most those moments in your class when they felt that they were recognized—not for who you expected them to be, but for who they really were.

So, as you make your final preparations for tomorrow, see if you can leave some space to let your students know that you are interested in getting to know them—who they are and who they want to be. I think that you will find it space (and time) worth creating.

About half way through my teaching career, I discovered a phrase that I wish had been etched on my bathroom mirror that first day of school. As soon as I heard it, it totally changed my perspective. I’ll leave that phrase with you in the hopes that it might remind you about just how important you are to the children that you will meet tomorrow morning.

“I’m not who I think I am. I’m not who you think I am. But I am who I think you think I am!”

Have a wonderful day, a fantastic year and a very powerful career! You’ve been waiting for this!

Be well,

Stephen

]]>https://coopcatalyst.wordpress.com/2014/09/02/dear-chandra-i-recognize-you/feed/0IMG_0252shurley10Welcoming our Newest Colleagues: Letter to A Beginning Teacherhttps://coopcatalyst.wordpress.com/2014/08/06/14077/
https://coopcatalyst.wordpress.com/2014/08/06/14077/#commentsWed, 06 Aug 2014 10:53:27 +0000http://coopcatalyst.wordpress.com/?p=14077Continue reading →]]>The following was posted yesterday on voicEd.ca. I would love to get contributions from south of the 49th parallel, so if this is something that captures your imagination, I would love to hear from you. You can reach me at stephen.hurley@sympatico.ca or on Twitter at stephen_hurley

Feel free to share the invitation with your colleagues and friends.

The first week of August hangs at the very top of summer, the top of the live-long year, like the highest seat of a Ferris wheel when it pauses in its turning

—Natalie Babbitt, Tuck Everlasting, Prologue

This is the week of the summer where most of us who are somehow aligned to the rhythm of the school year pause to reflect. For some of us, the summer is half empty, for others, half full. It’s one of those “top of the Ferris Wheel” moments, and I would like to use this moment to introduce a new voicEd.ca theme for the month of August.

I find myself thinking about those educators who will be starting their careers in a few weeks. Whether it’s a short term contract, or a full time position, thousands will head off to school in September as “the teacher” for the very first time.

And, if the buzz on social media is any indication, emotions are already running high. For the educators among us, it likely isn’t difficult to remember the summer-before-your-first-September.

So, this month on voicEd.ca, I’m inviting you to write an open letter to a first year teacher—a letter from your particular perspective in the system.

If you’re a teacher, it may be a letter welcoming your newest colleague to the profession. If you’re a parent, perhaps it’s a letter that provides some insights about your child, and the type of learning experience that works best for them. If you’re an administrator, perhaps its some tips on settling into school for the first time. If you’re a student, it could be some thoughts about what is important to you in the year to come. If you’re involved in teacher education, maybe you have a few reminders that you would like your newest graduates to remember once they get settled into their new role. Even if you hang out around the edges of the formal school system, you likely have some important things to share!

And if you’re a new teacher, your voice is welcome as well. We would love to hear why you’re excited about this opportunity and the work that you have chosen to do. Tell us what brings you here, what your hopes and aspirations are for the work that you are undertaking, and the ways that we can help you live up to those dreams!

Whatever your perspective, you likely have some important things to communicate to those that are just beginning their journey. And, I’m sure that your insights and ideas will be valuable for us all to hear!

So, as the Ferris Wheel pauses at the top of another summer season, here’s your invitation to create something for those new educators who are busy imagining, creating and anticipating their very first September experience as a teacher.

If you’re new to voicEd.ca and haven’t signed up to be an author, now is a perfect opportunity. Just drop me a line at stephen.hurley@sympatico.ca. You can also find me on twitter at stephen_hurley.

Your submissions can take the form of a blog entry, a comment on another entry, a podcast, a graphic—whatever mode that is most effective for you.

Request: I’d like to send the teachers in my care your way to learn like I did.

I started this blog a little more than two years ago to voice what I was experiencing in my classroom and the systems I had worked in and was working in at the time. I didn’t know where to start, I just needed a place to shout from. After shouting for awhile a few folks started shouting back. Finally one of them (adventuresinlearning.tumblr.com) invited me to come shout with a group of other shouters (coopcatalyst.wordpress.com) and the rest of the tumblr education group). This made a tremendous difference in my life as a teacher – and a person, and on and on. Connecting to you expanded my increasingly myopic view. Stress, burnout, and cynicism from teaching in less than perfect communities and systems had narrowed my view and weakened my soul. I felt like I was done.

As many do, I left the public school system with the hope of untangling my experience/s and hopefully opening up some new possibilities for others. The future is, of course, unclear. I sorely missed teaching face-to-face. Interacting with my students, fellow teachers and being a part of the communities I served. It was disillusioning. I had jumped from one isolating system to what seemed like another. I was wrong – about both institutions (being wrong is a skill that is cultivated with age and humility I suppose).

My path crossed with former students over the holiday as I travelled to visit family and friends. One was a student from the very first class I taught. The other was from my most recent public school teaching experience. The first was such a surprise. I didn’t know if I’d ever reconnect with that group of kids. S is now a few years into college and is doing marvelously. I’m so happy. D is also doing well. He’s in a new school in a new district (I started educatedtodeath while in his former district) and is thriving – “killing it,” he said. I told them both that I was about to start teaching soon to be teachers, and that I was nervous about it. I asked D, “Where do I start? I know the content, but what do I teach?” He replied, “Just be honest like you were with us. You had bad days and good days. We did too. But you were always straight with us.” Where did this 10th grader get so much wisdom? Brilliant. So I’ll have a go at that.

I’m coming back to this blog as a new teacher. A teacher of teachers. They are marvelous people with such hope in their eyes that I can’t help but start seeing a bit of that same spark in my own when I glance in the mirror. They all have lives that are on hold – electricians, geologists, scientists, camp counselors, missionaries, athletes, musicians, coaches, students, and on and on – as they are working to become teachers. They can’t wait to get their own classrooms. I’m looking back and they’re looking forward. We’re going to learn quite a bit together.

I’m teaching them about literacy in the content areas, and I’m hoping to facilitate this through blogging and other social media outlets. In other words, I’m sending them to you, the way I went, to learn from masters – I’ll put my two bits in along the way as well. The network I built changed me tremendously. My voice and experience is just that, mine. We need each other. I thank you for your support, and ask that you will join in support for these brilliant minds. Thank you and cheers.

I was asked to sit on a panel of teachers to represent my school district during the accreditation process. I assume I was chosen because I am eager to speak in meetings and apparently speak well. This makes me think my administration has only enjoyed the sound of my voice and not the content of my O so bold oration.

I noticed quickly that I was in a room full of yes men and women who teach in the more affluent schools in our district. They all smiled and sat nicely. They were there to be slaughtered like good little lambs. The team of teachers surrounding me, my co-teachers, were, not unlike me worse for wear and doubting. Lips pursed, eyebrows cocked, notepads out. We were prepared for whatever we were going to he expected to swallow without question. Of course, my group did not act in complete accord. One just parroted off whatever was expected. Another would nod in agreement with the rest of the flock.

This accreditation team is from Advanced Ed, a voluntary “quality assurance” company that comes in for a hefty price and helps ensure that schools are quantitatively meeting standards. They provide services ranging from professional development to teacher evaluations to curriculum development to brainwashing desperate administration. The people on the teams I have met are high paid zealots who offer instruction in best practices from corporate research done in schools far different from the ones they are currently serving. This is no shock. I’ve been impressed with their ability to stick to their script even when challenged. They utilize a method similar to Bill O’Reilly’s when challenged. They simply repeat their original point in a different tone and then say “well we don’t have time to continue this” or “for the sake of time we have to move on”. But they’re generally nice people.

Back to the meeting and the flock.

We were asked general questions regarding the state of our facilities, safety on campus, professional development related to Common Core, whether or not the professional development was useful, and many more. Most people nodded along in agreement with the flock.

And then we were asked if we thought our kids were prepared for college and/or the “real world” when they left or high school. The flocked bleated, “Yes”. They provided examples, “I am a product of this district and I was more than ready.” Several referenced themselves as examples.

I asked the “accreditors” who were superintendents from other states if they thought the students leaving their districts were prepared. They paused and looked at one another. I continued, “is it possible with the way things are segmented, and the focus on testing and extreme standardization for anyone to leave a school completely prepared?” The other teachers in the room began speaking. One shouted out, “I teach at the community college in the summers. Our students almost always have to enter remedial reading courses.” Another offered her child as an example stating how his first year of college was devoted to college prep courses.

The accreditors said we had to move on, but first he said: “off the record, we’re all in trouble.” And was back to the agenda. It was an interesting moment to see a stone face break for a moment. It was a nice moment of breaking from the flock for the teachers around me. It’s nice to see a Yes Man say no.

I’m angry because, after a weekend of careful planning, after differentiating an assignment for students who have mastered skills at different levels, after catching up on all of my grading, after getting my lesson plans in on time with the TEKS and the Reading Comprehension standards and the ELPS, I couldn’t print anything I needed for class because our copy machine is broken. Again. I’m angry because I had to make something up on the fly, putting my students further behind from where we should be right now. I’m angry that this roadblock put me in such a foul mood that I snapped at one of my students when he asked to show me his medal from the 10K he ran this weekend.

I’m angry because my 7th graders are taking their reading STAAR in a few weeks, and I am mandated to use Pearson’s test prep books at least two periods a week. I’m angry because this is disrupting their amazing theatre projects. I’m angry because Pearson is making money off of my students’ wasted learning time.

I’m angry because my 8th graders are being pulled daily from DEAR (Drop Everything And Read) to receive STAAR test prep for their science test in a few weeks. I’m angry because the school is telling them that bubbling in answers is more important than reading books they care about.

I’m angry because my school does not offer membership in a union, because Texas is an at-will employment state, and I could literally be let go for no reason and have no legal redress. I’m angry about teachers in other states who’ve gotten fired for being LGBT, for discussing Trayvon Martin, and any number of political “controversies.”

I’m angry because one of my students complained about not having enough time to do his homework — an assignment individualized to him that he is allowed to work on during class — and then chose to use his independent working time to talk to his neighbors and roll his eyes at me. I’m angry that I haven’t yet figured out how to gain this student’s respect.

I’m angry that parents, students, and administrators expect me to respond immediately to emails, even when sent after working hours and on weekends. I’m angry that I’m angry at myself for practicing self-care this weekend and spending long days reading over coffee, instead of responding to emails. I’m angry that teachers are considered lazy for taking time for themselves, ridiculed by the media, by politicians — and that celebrities or millionaires or CEOs don’t earn the same scorn.

I’m angry because, as a teacher, I am doing a job that is essential to the functioning of democracy, to the future of our society, and still barely getting by financially. I’m angry that my student loan payment is over $350 a month. I’m angry that I owe $500 in taxes next week and still have no idea how I’m going to pay it. I’m angry that teachers can only claim a $250 deduction for spending their own money on school supplies. I’m angry that I spent more than $250 last year… much more. I’m angry that teachers have to spend their own money in the first place. I’m angry that, despite my best efforts to go green, to go vegan, and to shop organically, I keep getting stymied because shelling out the extra dollar a pound for organic produce and non-GMO processed foods is scary when I’m so far behind on my bills. I’m angry that I will never be able to support my parents the way I would like to, because I will always be struggling to support myself. I’m angry that there are people working ten times as hard as I am, at jobs more dangerous and less rewarding than mine, in order to make ends meet and to take care of their families.

I’m angry that my job isn’t the only thing I’m angry about. I’m angry that President Obama signed the Monsanto Protection Act. I’m angry that Governor Perry continues to support racist and sexist legislation. I’m angry that the Texas House is trying to pass legislation that would cut funding to school districts that offer benefits to same-sex partners. I’m angry that only 20 of 100 U.S. Senators are women, and only one is a woman of color. I’m angry that my newly engaged baby sister is barred from getting married in 41 of the 50 states. I’m angry that people still insist on using the phrase “illegal immigrants.” I’m angry that when asked to list their biggest concerns, my students list unemployment, climate change, and gun violence.

Today, I’m angry. Tomorrow I will still be angry. But in my anger I’m reminded of this quote:

“Hope has two beautiful daughters; their names are Anger and Courage. Anger at the way things are, and Courage to see that they do not remain as they are.” — St. Augustine

Today, I’m not ignoring what is making me angry. I’m refusing to keep that anger within the confines of the teachers’ lounge, or the happy hour, or the tears in the car on the ride home. I will transform that anger into the courage to speak the truth about my experiences, and to challenge the forces that seek to destroy the voices of teachers and students across the country.

I saw this video on “The Independent Project” thanks to a shout out from my old principal Mr. Adams. Within minutes of checking out the premise of the project, their website and this video, I was fascinated and frankly, hooked.

I think the idea behind a self motivated school situated inside a public school (a form that lends itself to more open learning if utilized to its full extent) is brilliant. That a bunch of interested students took focused time to work on a project that really interested them and had a concrete result upholds practically everything I’ve read on “modern education” thus far. Being affirmed in this project are various bits of Daniel Pink’s theories on the wonders of self-motivation, Cal Newport’s arguments promoting focused, concentrated effort and “the big project”, as well the general perceptions that school should fit the individual, and that a “good” school is one that helps further one’s development and instills values, information and ideas that stick and are relevant outside the classroom walls.

I think nowadays, school has come to take on a whole new slew of connotations. But at its core, school is place of learning. That’s it. The barebones definition of school should not require add-ons such as- helps you get into college, helps test-taking skills, a place that makes the district and teachers look good, workforce birther etc. Sure school can do that and help us in more ways than JUST learning, but the learning should come first- not standardized tests, not college, not jobs. Learning to learn, to have knowledge, to be aware to do things that require more than the rudiemntary skill fo filling in the bubble that matches with the memorized answer.

So it shouldn’t matter so much how that learning is achieved. In the video, one of the girls mentions how school “doesn’t help anyone because you’re trying to put people in boxes and humans just don’t fit in boxes.” We are all unique which means that, for better or worse, as a whole, we learn differently. Sure some people learn like others, but without any sort of delineation, teaching the same thing to the masses, regardless of their aptitude, their mindset, their interest or their learning style, is ridiculous and probably “unproductive.”

In the video, one of the group’s advisors mentions how in our society, students are simply passed along from class to class often with little to no enthusiasm or interest. These students sit on a conveyor belt powered by society and its requirements, which moves them glacially from one predestined location to another. By contrast, the students involved in the Independent Project, some of whom weren’t considered “great students” (grades wise) to begin with, are moving themselves. Just by being off the conveyor belt, the self-motivated environment overtime fuels a thirst for knowledge. As one student put it, they started “finding questions in everything” and wanting to learn about anything they stumbled across that they didn’t know.

That’s what makes this project so fantastic, in my opinion.

The students in the video also said some great things about why The Independent Project works and why it is even better, in some ways, than normal school.

As one girl said, “knowledge isn’t memorization, it’s more an exploration of facts.” As a result, the rote memorization required in most classes promotes less absorption of knowledge. If the same concepts were explored through a series of well crafted questions, designed to probe different aspects of the idea or problem, and the students found the answers on their own and then shared their findings so everyone got the big picture, the knowledge would be much more concrete. Research shows that being able to effectively teach a concept and answer most questions about said concept, shows a certain level of mastery. As a result of the Independent project, knowledge and information is more personal and you begin to make connections across the board which helps information stick without the help of the usual assessments. One student remarked that “I don’t need tests or quizzes to show I know something. I know that I know it and that I can express myself through it.” That sounds good enough to me…

While attending “normal school” prioritization is key. Sadly, if you’re not involved in an organized extra-curricular in your area of interest, other projects that you often have greater interest in are sidelined for school work. As the student who made a film said, “I can either push aside my creativity to struggle on something I simply don’t care about or I go with my creativity and do awful in school.” The beauty of the Independent Project is that it combines the project work with “academic work,” by splitting the day into chunks of time dedicated to those two things.

The guy who was effectually the creator of the project said that “it works because students end up doing so many creative things.” The advisor of the project also commented on how having the freedom to learn whatever you want (within the subject of the week) lends “a sense of agency, and that changes the way you act.” I think it’s important that she noted how the freedom influenced their actions, because I feel like some people would discount this project on the belief that nothing productive would emerge and that students would simply goof off. However this teachers statement proves that when given an opportunity to follow their interests “for credit” students will do just that.

Finally, another student echoed an idea I’ve supported for a while which shows why the students involved with the independent project thrived. He said that “you can’t achieve the broader goals you want and you don’t have the motivation get good at things unless you make school a place where people wanna be.” Because the students who participated in the independent project WANTED to be there, they accomplished great things.

Other people, more qualified and educated than little old me, also agree with the statements I have proposed above and the fundamental ideas behind the “Independent Project”. For example, this project exemplifies the school that the names I mentioned above preach about. In fact, this is not a passing fad. Some schools even make this sort of thing a potential course offering called the Independent Study. Independent studies, which at my school are offered to seniors, are one semester long (approximately) and usually require approval from a higher power as well as some sort of result at the end of the period but as for the topic, well, the sky is the limit.

There was one quote I heard that I felt really summed up the power of this project. When asked what they learned, a couple of students said something along the lines of “We realized that, everyone has interest in things and everybody truly wants to learn. We learned how to teach, we learned how to learn and we learned how to work. We learned how to ask questions and explore the answers in different methods. we learned to take what we learned and share with the others because it was our responsibility to make sure everyone in the group also learned from our work.”

To teach, to learn, to share, to explore, to listen, and to create- any school has the potential for their students to do this.

]]>https://coopcatalyst.wordpress.com/2013/02/24/independent-learning/feed/0taras15Teachers as Activists Part One: Little “p” politicshttps://coopcatalyst.wordpress.com/2013/01/29/teachers-as-activists-part-one-little-p-politics/
https://coopcatalyst.wordpress.com/2013/01/29/teachers-as-activists-part-one-little-p-politics/#commentsTue, 29 Jan 2013 18:33:21 +0000http://coopcatalyst.wordpress.com/?p=12795Continue reading →]]>Recently, I attend a meeting of the Austin Social Justice Teachers Inquiry Group, during which we talked about… politics. A scary word in a school. Big “P” Politics referred to ways teachers can be involved politically beyond the walls of their classroom; little “p” politics meant bringing current events and social justice into lessons and activities.

One concern that always comes up when talking to other teachers about bringing social justice to their classrooms is, “I don’t want to lose my job.” I’ve invited fellow teachers to rallies, meetings, and protests; I’ve shared resources discussing issues ranging from immigration to racial profiling to standardized testing. Too often I get rebuffed with the question, “Am I allowed to that?” In this post, I want to give on example of how I’ve incorporated little “p” politics in my classroom, as well as the experiences of another fellow teacher.

Right now, my 8th graders are working on persuasive writing. I found about 15 texts for them to use as anchor texts, discussing different political issues (i.e. immigration reform and the school-to-prison pipeline). I also included articles about standardized testing, homework, school uniforms, and school lunches — issues less social justice focused but more salient in my students’ lives. We analyzed the essays and decided which arguments were the most effective and why. We compared two different sides of one issue and tried to figure out which one we most agreed with.

We’ve spent some time discussing how writing an essay isn’t necessarily going to be the most effective strategy; it’s great to learn persuasive techniques but how we need to know different ways people can make change happen. Our list included speeches, videos, rallies, boycotts, protests, petitions, and sit-ins. We talked about Cesar Chavez, and how if there had been only one farm-worker standing up, s/he probably would have been fired and forgotten about — to make change, you need a lot of support.

In class today, the students were especially riled up about their uniforms (surprise — they hate them). They were pretty discouraged about being able to change this, as the uniform policy applies to all of the schools in our system. What was I supposed to tell them — you’re right, you have absolutely no power, you can’t change your circumstances? Obviously… I told them they had the power to change anything they wanted, if they were organized and had a good strategy.

They asked me if they could boycott the uniforms for a day, if they could organize the rest of the 8th graders to sign a petition asking to have more free dress days, and then all show up to school one day without their uniforms. “Will we get in trouble?” someone asked. “Well, they can’t suspend all of us,” someone replied.

I don’t think I’ve ever been so proud.

The next period, I printed off some articles advocating against school uniforms and other examples of student organizing that has been successful — students in California boycotting their school lunches, for example. I very carefully explained to the students that I wasn’t giving them permission to be out of uniform or officially endorsing any of their actions. They understood: “Don’t worry, Ms. Lane. We won’t tell you anything else, so you don’t know what’s going on. This is our thing.”

While this is happening, I can’t help but think of one woman at the ASJTIG meeting, a veteran teacher from San Marcos, and the assignment she gave her 4th graders. They discussed the issue of the City Council controlling a particular riverfront tract of land — should it be made into a park? or should the city build apartments to bring in more revenue? The 4th graders almost unanimously decided they wanted a park. Since they were studying persuasive writing, the teacher had them write letters to the mayor, asking for the park. When the mayor received the letters — which were against the policy he’d already decided on — he contacted this teacher’s principal to complain that she was using her classroom to push students towards a particular political position. The teacher was reprimanded by her principal, and warned about doing this kind of thing in the classroom again.

Yes, there is risk involved. But I would argue that this is so urgent, it is worth the risk. Those students in San Marcos got a real-life lesson about the nature of our democracy, and the power of collective voices to bring attention to their concerns. We must teach students academic skills, but we must also teach them how to apply those skills in a real way — not just for the sake of getting an A or passing a standardized test. Teachers can turn complaints into campaigns, by planting seeds of possibility. Students often feel so disempowered, disengaged from their schools — like they have no control over their classrooms, their family lives, their society. We should not only be discussing issues they care about, and taking them seriously, but helping them speak truth to power by amplifying their voices and concerns.

Maybe I’m a little reckless when it comes to bringing the world into my classroom. Maybe we should just talk about Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., Cesar Chavez, Dolores Huerta — not expect our students to model their lives around activism and social justice. But it’s not about bringing my politics into their lives — it’s about allowing them to discuss the politics they see in their own lives. This is not me guiding my students to see my side of the issue, but helping them to articulate their deeply held beliefs, to communicate their opinions and feelings effectively — and act upon their beliefs, to successfully bring change to their communities.

So: today it’s 8th graders and school uniforms. Tomorrow… who knows. The possibilities are endless.

]]>https://coopcatalyst.wordpress.com/2013/01/29/teachers-as-activists-part-one-little-p-politics/feed/3robinclaneGood Morning: A less than bland way to talk about Arts Educationhttps://coopcatalyst.wordpress.com/2013/01/28/good-morning-a-less-than-bland-way-to-talk-about-arts-education/
https://coopcatalyst.wordpress.com/2013/01/28/good-morning-a-less-than-bland-way-to-talk-about-arts-education/#commentsMon, 28 Jan 2013 20:48:43 +0000http://coopcatalyst.wordpress.com/?p=12861Continue reading →]]>Originally posted at educatedtodeath.com

I have two dreams that I have been able to articulate in my life. One is for me and the other is seemingly more benevolent. As I get older I see they can be intertwined. The first is to work as a performer. I want to be a musician, a dancer, and an actor. I love being on stage. I do it a lot. So that dream can and does happen. Daily I work with a great group of artists.

My second dream is to ensure others who want these opportunities have access. I want to see equal access to the arts and quality education. I want to see kids learning to read, write, and create—never domesticated. Empowered. Literacy through the arts is deeply empowering. It isn’t the sort of literacy that involves just calling words or even gleaning meaning from a textbook. It is a new and wider literacy that can encompass those things, but it reaches far beyond that. It leaves children, humans, empowered to do what makes them happy. It gives them the power to see what is important. It gives them the ability to choose their path instead of leaving the choice in the hands of another. It is empowering to create. It’s equally beneficial to learn the discipline and perseverance required to master and art form. Arts puts power and responsibility in the hand of the creator. The internal discipline required spreads to every area of life. It allows a drive that otherwise would not exist to develop, and it’s self-reinforcing.

From time to time I forget why I do what I do. I remembered this morning.

It’s Christmas Eve, or the start of it at least, and I can’t seem to stay asleep. I haven’t been able to really write for the past few months—not consistently. Things have been topsy turvy at best personally and professionally. As a teacher, I’ve been in a haze, as a human I’ve been more awake then ever before. And to avoid being completely obtuse I’ll be flat out truthful. We almost lost my mother-in-law a few months ago, my focus shifted to supporting my wife. She’s still recovering, but doing so nicely. Then, after that seemed to be clearing up, my wife was in a head on collision. She called my from the accident when she came to, before or after calling for help. She told me “I’ve been in a head on collision, and I can’t move.” I was on lunch duty. I walked out grabbed my things, and told my principal I had to go. He took care of things that day and the next. My wife is still recovering, by the way, and back at work. Not paralyzed. Still struggling though.

A week or so later, the school shootings. A colleague shared with me that one of her grown personal children had been attacked by their spouse. Attempted murder. Just blow after blow. And, of course, the punches keep on coming. Out of it all, the adage, “Any day above ground is a good one.” comes to mind. A bar tender in college told me that. That bit of wisdom passed to me through a most perfect human interaction has brought me such joy; rather, it has made me aware of the joyous things right before me in such a seemingly bleak time.

And this moment of joy reminds me of why I teach. Teaching is one of those jobs that allows for, demands even, that we connect with our fellow human being. We are not teachers to meet some quota, or make test scores happen, or discipline people, or train automatons, or even happily keep our jobs. We exist to help make possible the awakening of a consciousness from this dismal world of subsidized slumber. We hope beyond hope to be a part of the humanization of another and to join in the mutual benefit from that moment.

I’ve tried to revive my hope in my chosen profession, to much avail, through philosophical ponderings and pontification. And it is bleak. It’s the system and its trappings that are bleak, not us. We are human beings. We teach human beings. If ever I have had reason to write a Hallelujah, this is it. Cheers dear friends.